Outlaws
Los Hombres Malo

The eighties reign supreme and even the "southerners" Outlaws from Tampa, Florida, in this their seventh release of 1982, noticeably yield to the hard&heavy trend that pervades rock at that time, as a reaction to having been squeezed first by Disco, with its falsettos and four-on-the-floor kicks, and then by the New Wave, with its synthesizers and rigid rhythms.

So it’s one of the guitarists in the band, the newest addition Freddie Salem, who leads the bandmates towards the hardening (with relative, discreet depersonalization) of the sound. However, ever since he joined them, three years and three records earlier, Salem appeared immediately as the "heaviest" and rowdiest of the group... Here his role within the Outlaws appears much increased, not least because of the sad but probably inevitable ousting of one of the three guitarists/singers/composers/founders, namely Billy Jones, for the usual reasons of excessive indulgence in drugs and alcohol and resultant musical unreliability.

Billy's story is emblematic and has always moved me: a focused and efficient person, an early and talented musician, was contacted at the age of eighteen by a prestigious music teaching institute, but he refused, opting instead to continue his studies at university. While he was excelling towards his degree, he was infected by the rock fever and accepted the call from Outlaws founder Hughie Thomasson to enrich the newborn group with his... keyboards!

Only he was caught one day with a guitar in hand, explaining to his bandmates how to harmonize a solo part, he who is, after all, musicality personified. He does it so precisely and brilliantly (they had never seen him with a guitar before!) that it ends up with him being forced to become the second lead guitarist in the band, with his organ and piano confiscated, despite his many reservations that he wasn’t ready on the guitar, an instrument he didn’t feel proficient enough with. Thus, the Outlaws ended up structuring themselves as a guitar army, three like Lynyrd Skynyrd; three soloists dividing the duties with one taking the solo and the other two backing him or harmonized parts, sometimes even with three guitars...

But here on “Los Hombres Malo”, after seven years and seven records, much of that magic has vanished: the band finds itself reduced to a quartet, as one of the two drummers also left.

The album is not bad at all, characterized primarily by the wonderful melodic surge in "Goodbye", a true and absolute rock anthem thanks to its irresistible, catchy, piercing, unforgettable refrain. In a fair world, such a song should have a role as a valid and, thank goodness, differentiating alternative to the ubiquitous, overexposed, ultra overhyped "We Are the Champions" by Queen and the Puccini-esque "Nessun Dorma". That way, at least a little variety could be had, but alas...

The opening "Don’t Stop" is a real statement of intent: it sounds like Judas Priest, with that guitar riff as anonymous as it is wicked, those sonorities pushed to the max completely far removed from the refined blend of blues, country, soul, Beatles, Stones that characterizes the best southern rock; and in addition, Salem's voice exhibits itself at the maximum screaming capacity possible (but Rob Halford is another thing, of course). The accelerator is floored to the max also on the following "Foxtail Lily", as evidence of wanting to kick off the album with the heavier episodes to attract attention even in the metal area.

However, the majority of the pieces remain rounder and more "grounded", decidedly resurfacing the original southern inspiration. I'm referring to "Rebel Girl", "Back from Eternity", and the closing "All Roads", all sung by Thomasson. "Won’t Come Out of the Rain" instead introduces new bassist Rick Cua on the microphone, who gives his best on his other composition, "Easy Does It", with a beautiful melodic hook.

Poor Billy Jones took the ousting from the Outlaws very badly... it couldn't have been worse. Having somehow resolved his issues with drugs and the like, as the eighties progressed, he finally embraced the activity of a music teacher, a job for which he was fully qualified thanks to his diploma and degree. But disappointment and depression continued to gnaw at his soul until in 1995, he took his own life by shooting a bullet into his temple. His extremely round and chubby face, framed by long, neatly wavy hair, made even more distinctive and funny by those twisted mustache à la Charles Bronson, always evokes sympathy and sorrow in me.

And admiration: thank you again for your music and your guitar, Billy, fallen hero of southern rock.